THE LITURGICAL YEAR

Sermons, hymns, meditations and other musings to guide our annual pilgrim's progress through the liturgical year.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

THOUGH I SPEAK WITH THE TONGUES OF MEN

A SERMON FOR QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY

When I was eleven years old, I
started a new school, as was the custom in England back in the 1960s. It was a public school, and because it was
England, where Church and State are not separated but very much integrated,
part of the curriculum was devoted to the subject of Religion. Religion was taught by the headmaster
himself, who was a Church of England minister called Dr. Watthey. I was eleven, he was the headmaster, the one
who administered the canings, it was a new school, and I was terrified. The very first homework he gave us, that
September day in 1966, was to memorize the whole of today’s Epistle. Not just pick out our favorite verse and
memorize. No such luck, we had to know the
whole thing by heart! You can imagine
how that ruined my first weekend. Nor
could we rely on not being called on to recite.
Every one of us had to write out all thirteen verses, and hand them in
for grading. Spelling mistakes were not
ignored, and it had to be perfect. There’s
nothing quite like fear to make us strive to be perfect.

You might think that this
introduction to today’s Epistle would have filled me with loathing for these
words of St. Paul. And yet, the wisdom
of Dr. Watthey prevailed, and his choice of Scripture in his introductory class
shaped my destiny, instilling me with a sound understanding of the importance
of the love of God. Because after all,
that fear, which propelled us to learn the words as best we could, turned out
to be an incentive to do more than merely learn by rote. Fear is a means to the end, not the end in
itself. The purpose of putting the fear
of God in us was not to ruin my weekend, spent in trembling terror at the
thoughts of failing the Monday morning test.
It was to make sure we really “knew” the words of this Epistle. And to make sure we understood them. To make sure we really knew what “love”, or
charity is.

That love was the end of the
exercise. Unlike fear, love is not the
means to an end, it is the end itself.
The more we are inspired to show our love for God, the more we will
actually love God. And the more we love
God, the more we will be inspired to show our love for him. It’s like the opposite of a vicious circle—it’s
a virtuous circle, based on the
theological virtue of charity. That
weekend of drumming St. Paul’s epistle into my head made me realize this

An analysis of today’s Epistle is
not necessary. Every word in it is so
simple, and yet has such depth of meaning that we could read it every day for
the rest of our lives, and still manage to be inspired. Its opening sentence sums up to what extent
love supersedes all other gifts: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of
angels, and have not charity, I am become as a sounding brass, or a tinkling
cymbal.” If I were to preach the best
sermon you’ve ever heard, but it didn’t somehow preach the love of God and
neighbor, then it would be utterly useless.
It cannot be expressed strongly enough how essential it is to
acknowledge God’s love for us by loving him in return, and our neighbor as
ourselves. Everything we live for is
contained in this concept, and without that love we are nothing. Absolutely nothing—even if our faith is
strong enough to move mountains, even if we can understand all mysteries, even
if we give all our goods to feed the poor. What better message can we have
three days before Lent begins?

The readings at Matins this week
included the story of the Tower of Babel.
The men of this world were puffed up with pride, love of themselves, and
they determined to build a great tower that would reach up to heaven and to the
throne of God himself. But they had no
charity. God destroyed their tower, and
divided mankind by making them speak with diverse tongues. And so they did speak with the tongues of
men, and because they had no charity, they became as sounding brasses and
tinkling cymbals to each other.

It is St. Paul’s last message to
us before Lent begins. Our penances of
Lent mean absolutely nothing if they are not done out of love for God. Sure enough, fear may inspire us to be
perfect, but that inspiration will be like the seed that falls by the wayside
if it does not inspire us to love.
Because it is only by love that we can move towards perfection. And we can never achieve perfection without
perfect love.

Granted, we never will be truly
perfect. We are imperfect, finite beings
incapable of the true perfection which exists only in God. But we can be as perfect as we possibly can
be, by striving towards perfection with every atom of strength we possess. Where it’s a question of love, God looks on
our efforts, not our success, because our effort is the yardstick by which our
love is measured.

We all have many difficulties in
this life. You know what your own
personal difficulties are. Sometimes you
ask God to help you with these difficulties.
Other times you might ask your priest.
But today’s Epistle has the only answer that can ever truly help you
with the problems you face, even those problems which you think are insurmountable
or which seem to have no solution. Read
again that sentence which explains what love, or charity, really is. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind,” says
St. Paul. Charity “beareth all things,
believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.” Here is your answer. If you truly love God, you will be able to
put up with whatever life throws at you, whatever predicament you find yourself
in. Only our love of God can enable us to
find peace and contentment in our turbulent lives.

A little old French lady once came
up to me, with tears of devotion in her eyes, and she asked me a question, no
doubt expecting a profound and mystical theological response, full of
wisdom. But it was a simple question
from a simple soul, and my answer was equally simple. She asked me: “What can I do, mon Père, to be perfect?” And the simple answer? “Love God,” I told her. “Aimez
le bon Dieu!” And her wizened old
face fell, she was obviously disappointed, and she replied, “But I already love
God.” To which I said, “Then love him
more.” She still wasn’t convinced. “That’s all?” she asked. “Love God to the best of your ability and you
will be as perfect as you can be. Et ça suffit. It is enough!”

Read and re-read today’s
Epistle. Let it be your daily Lenten
meditation. It sums up all you need to
know about the love of God, about how to make a good Lent, how to live a good
life, how to save your souls in spite of all temptations. Love God, and it is enough.

ET RÉLIQUA ...

Did you ever wonder how to thoroughly immerse yourself in the mind and spirit of the Church? The best way of course is to attend Mass and receive Holy Communion, preferably on a daily basis, supplementing this if possible with the regular recitation of as much of the Divine Office as your schedule permits. If you don't have time, then at least pray the Rosary with devotion every day, meditating on the mysteries of our Lord's life, death and resurrection. In other words, follow the story of Redemption in your daily life, praying and communicating with God, uniting with him as closely as you can.

Our weekly blog is intended to trigger a year-long response to the mysteries of the Redemption story contained in the Church's traditional liturgy. After all, it's not enough just to read our Mass texts and breviary. Knowing God is merely the indispensable step towards loving and serving him. Et Reliqua takes us to this next step, providing a little extra support so we can translate our thoughts into deeds, and encouraging us to serve God in our daily lives.

Follow us weekly as we attempt to scratch the surface of "the rest" (réliqua), and learn a little more each time about our faith and how to live it.

THE AUTHOR

Fr. Hall graduated from St. Andrews University in Scotland with an M.A. in 1977 before entering seminary at Ecóne, Switzerland in 1978. After leaving the Society of St. Pius X in 1983, Fr. Hall embarked on the task of transferring the entire Roman Breviary and Missal in Latin and English to a website that could be easily accessed by the Catholic laity, even without knowledge of the complex rubrics. In 2015 he founded the Guild of St. Peter ad Vincula, which he continues to administer as Dean of Chapter. He currently resides in Liberty Township, Ohio, where he is the Chaplain at Infant of Prague Chapel, and travels weekly to Urbana, Ohio to offer Sunday Mass at St. Margaret Mary Chapel.